For Your Own Good
by NinaQ
Summary: Charlie hasn't been the same since Bella's return from Italy. When he finally gets close to the truth about the Cullens, it's too much. How far will he go to protect her from things he doesn't quite understand? A short story for Halloween.
1. Chapter 1

_Once upon a time I selected a Darkfest prompt and didn't get it submitted on time. This little tale of unhappiness has been collecting dust in my hard drive ever since. Halloween seemed like the perfect time to share it!_

_This story deals with mental illness and violence. If that's not your thing, please pass._

_MariainNYC made the banner so long ago. I appreciate her patience in seeing it come to light. _

_Special thanks to Kitchmill and StoryPainter from PTB who made this much better. I'm constantly messing with things, so any errors are my own. A huge shout out to CindyWindy who helped me get the ending right. :) She's awesome. _

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"Bells, you forgot your phone again. I need to be able to reach you."

Charlie walked in while I was folding the last of my laundry. I could hear the admonishment in his tone. Ever since I got back from Italy, he'd been overprotective. I mean, I understood that I scared him, but he'd been going overboard for weeks.

"I expect you to carry this all the time," he said, waving the phone at me until I took it. He watched while I tucked it into my pocket. When he'd brought the phone home, Charlie had explained that it had a GPS chip embedded. I couldn't help but think of it as my tiny, electronic leash.

"You're home early," I said, stating the obvious. His hair was wet, and he smelled faintly of bait, so I guessed the fishing wasn't good. "Maybe we can watch a movie or something?" I asked, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

For the last couple weeks, I'd been complaining to Renee about this new overly-strict Charlie. She'd suggested spending more _quality time_ with him. She'd then gone into a long discussion about how men process fear differently than women. According to my mother, men were more comfortable with anger and control than fear, and I needed to give him time. It was typical Renee advice. Normally, I'd appreciate it, but right now, I didn't think it would help.

The truth was I hadn't told Renee everything. If she had any idea how controlling Charlie had become, she'd be giving him an earful, and that would only make things worse. It just seemed smart to pretend everything was fine and wait for him to ease up. I knew I deserved to be grounded; I just never expected to feel like a prisoner.

A movie might be a decent way to pass the afternoon. Edward and the rest of the Cullens had left for Alaska that morning. They didn't get to see the Denali clan over spring break and decided this was a good time for a weekend visit. It wasn't like I could spend time with them anyway. Charlie had made that clear. He couldn't keep me from seeing Edward at school, but _that boy_ was not welcome in his house. I shook my head at the unfairness of it all; no one was allowed in, and I wasn't allowed out.

My father stood next to the dresser and watched as I put my clothes away. He was utterly silent, observing my every move. By the time I was done, the hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I turned away from his silent stare, straightening the comforter, and when I looked back up, his eyes were focused somewhere else.

"You okay, Dad?" I asked. I walked around the bed, focusing on what he found so fascinating.

There was a white speck on the rug under the window. It was a paint chip about the size of a dime with irregular edges. I started to reach for it, but Charlie pushed my hand away. He lifted it gently and held it in the palm of his hand. His eyebrows narrowed, and then he stood.

He walked to the window and flicked the latch. It opened soundlessly on hinges that Edward oiled faithfully. Leaning out, Charlie held the chip in one hand and scanned the window ledge. The paint below the window was smooth except for one crushed area where the wood was exposed. Like a perfect puzzle piece, the missing paint from the window ledge matched the chip in his hand.

"Have you been using this window?" he asked, staring intensely as he waited for an answer.

"No! Well ... yes. Sometimes, when I get too warm. You know, it gets hot up here sometimes." I was babbling, but I couldn't seem to help it. I'd always been the world's worst liar.

"Think back. When was the last time?" His voice had that tone he used when he was questioning someone after an incident at work. I hated that voice; it meant something horrible had happened.

"I don't know. A few nights ago, maybe." We both knew I was lying. It had been a cool spring, and the furnace ran every night.

He didn't reply. Keeping the chip cupped in his palm, he retraced his steps to the side of my bed then circled back to the window. It was as though he was measuring the distance, but his eyes weren't focused. After three trips back and forth, he stopped near the desk.

Right about now, I'd expect Charlie to blow out a sigh and rub his hand across the top of his head. Every time I saw that expression, I relaxed a bit. It was his body language for _I can't stop you from doing what you're doing, but I can let you know I don't like it._ The problem was he didn't do that this time. He just kept staring at me. It was a relief when he finally started talking.

"Bells, before you went to get _him_, we talked about you going to stay with Renee. I let you talk me out of it before, but I've changed my mind. It's time for you to go." His voice didn't hold the concern it had held earlier this spring. Now, it was kind of hollow.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" I couldn't believe he was bringing this up again. I wasn't going anywhere. Even if he had proof Edward was sneaking in, I wasn't letting him send me away.

He looked down at the white fleck, still cradled in his palm, before looking back at me. His professional voice got a little more intense—slower and deeper. "I know Edward managed to make you think everything is fine, but something is wrong here. We need to get you away before he hurts you again."

"Dad, please. I'm happy. I'm not fighting you on the grounding, and I'm following all your rules. There's no reason to ship me off to Mom's."

He stared back at me. While they were normally an older, wiser version of mine, something was missing from my father's eyes. Charlie might have been looking my way, but his gaze went right through me.

"Are you refusing to go?" he asked. There was no emotion in his voice.

"Yes. Please don't ask again. I won't go." I couldn't remember ever blatantly defying him, but what he was asking was unthinkable.

"Stay here. Do not leave your room!" He turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs.

"But ..." I called after him.

His muffled voice carried up the stairwell. "Don't leave your room!"

Charlie rarely issued orders, so I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Even if he had figured out Edward snuck into my room every night, what was the worst that could happen? He had to know Renee would be more relaxed about this kind of thing. Sending me to Jacksonville only meant Edward would follow.

I heard Charlie making noises outside and went to investigate. He was next to the tree stump below my window. Charlie had cut the tree down just after my return from Italy. He'd told me it was beginning to rot, but I didn't believe him. When I asked Edward, he'd confirmed Charlie wanted to remove all possible entrances into the house.

Charlie looked down, inspecting the grass before placing his boots into two indentations next to the stump. That didn't look good. He paced around the yard, going in circles, looking from the stump, to my window, to the chip still cradled in his hand. I watched him, wondering what the neighbors were thinking. At one point, he went into the cruiser and fiddled with some of the equipment, watching the screen mounted to the dashboard and talking to himself.

When my phone rang, I was a bit disappointed to see it was Alice, but I answered right away. She didn't waste time with a greeting.

"Is Charlie with you?"

I thought about teasing her for starting the conversation that way, but something in her voice stopped me. "No, but he's acting really weird." From downstairs, I heard rummaging and a loud bang, as though Charlie had dropped something.

"I had a vision of you in the cruiser a few minutes ago, and then everything went blank." Alice was talking so fast the words were blurring together. I had to concentrate to make out what she was saying.

"That's not unusual. I ride in the cruiser sometimes." I tried to sound calm, but her intensity was scaring me.

"No, sweetie. You were in the _back _of the cruiser."

I was too stunned to speak, and the line was silent when Charlie called up the stairs.

"Bella, please come down here. I have something I want to show you." That hollow tone was back in his voice, like he was talking to a delinquent he'd pulled over for speeding.

"Just a second, please. I'm on the phone."

"Hang up. Now." He was louder and sounded angry.

When Alice started talking again, her words were even faster than before. "Bella, you're going to be nervous, but you need to stay calm. I'm trying to see what's going to happen, but Charlie's kind of a mess right now. He's not thinking clearly, and he's not making decisions." She paused then started again, emphasizing every word. "No matter what you do, keep him calm and don't leave the house with him!"

"Isabella Marie! Now!" Charlie's voice rocketed up the stairwell.

"Alice, I've never heard him this angry." It occurred to me that I sounded like a frightened four-year-old.

She didn't answer, and for two full seconds the line was quiet. I started thinking we'd been disconnected. "Bella!" She was frantically yelling now. "Hide your phone, stuff it in your underwear—somewhere Charlie won't search. Do it right now!"

I heard Charlie stomping up the stairs. I flipped the phone shut, turned the ringer off and quickly shoved it down the front of my pants just as he threw the door open.

"I told you to come downstairs!" His eyes were wide and there was a glint of something feral. "When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. Am I clear?" My stoic father had been replaced by a manic-looking, demanding stranger. He gave an exaggerated sigh, and it was like he deflated somehow. "Never mind, Bells. It's not your fault I can't trust you anymore. Don't worry, though. I'll fix this."

He was making no sense. This reaction was too intense for thinking Edward was sneaking into my room. I didn't understand, and I opened my mouth to tell him so when I saw what was in his hand.

Disbelief rolled though me. My entire life, he'd kept the weapons locked up or out of reach. What the hell was going on?

I recognized it from television; he was holding a Taser. As he pointed it at me, I raised my arms. It was a reflex, and I felt so stupid, but the reaction was almost inborn after so many years of watching television and movie characters put their hands up.

My heart pounded, and my ears roared. Maybe if I could get him back into officer mode, he'd realize what he was doing. I decided to try being cooperative and helpful.

"Hey, Dad. Whatever that is, I think you should put it down. It might go off." I lowered my hands and took a tentative step toward him. "Why don't you show me where the safety is?" It wasn't much in the way of a distraction, but it was the best I could come up with.

"No." He extended his arm and muttered, "I'm sorry, Bells. I've got to protect you, even from yourself."

I turned to run, but in the back of my mind, I knew it made no difference. It wasn't like there was anywhere for me to go. I heard the snap of the trigger just before the pain registered. It was indescribable, like nothing I've felt before. Every muscle in my body seemed to seize, and I collapsed on the floor, barely registering the snapping, electrical sound.

When the sound stopped, I scrambled frantically. Instinct told me to get back on my feet. It was a primal need. I had to defend myself, but every neuron was scrambled. My muscle control was gone, and I collapsed on the floor scrambling like a newborn foal.

Charlie's boots stomped toward me, and his knee pressed into the middle of my back. He held me down while he yanked the Taser prongs from my skin. The tug of the metal barbs reminded me of childhood days fishing with Charlie. I was always clumsy, and anytime I went with him, I ended up with a fishhook stuck somewhere. I'd cry until he got the hook out. I always wanted him to kiss it and make it better, but he would just ruffle my hair and tell me to be a big girl.

The oozing sensation of warm blood on torn skin brought me back to the present.

Charlie rolled me over and grabbed my wrists, bringing them together in front of me. I barely registered the cool metal before I heard the locks click. My eyes were finally back under my control, and I frantically searched his face for some part of the father I loved. He had no expression as he secured me with practiced efficiency.

Pulling something out of his back pocket, Charlie ran his hand down my leg. Immediately, I started thrashing and kicking. Part of me knew it was useless, but I couldn't stop. He made a grunting sound before moving his knee to my thighs, forcing me to be still. I panted from exertion and terror, and I barely registered the sound of the zip tie closing around my ankles**.**

Charlie stood and looked down at me. It had probably taken him less than two minutes to bring me down and truss me like a turkey.

"Charlie—Dad, let me up. Please, God. What are you doing?" I asked, hoping I was coherent, but I was probably just whimpering. He just looked down with no expression on his face. Like a small animal looking up at a predator, I couldn't tear my gaze away from those flat eyes.

He turned away, not looking at me when he spoke. "There. Now we can leave. We need to make some time." Charlie stepped over me and pulled the comforter off my bed, spreading it on the floor.

"Charlie, please!" It always bothered him when I called him by his given name, and maybe irritating him would get him to acknowledge me.

He paused for a second, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd managed to bring him back from whatever kind of break this was. He'd let me go, and I could stay with the Cullens until he came to his senses.

Instead, his eyes scanned the room, finally stopping on the floor near the dresser. There was a single dirty, black sock. Scooping it up, he twisted it into a ball and jammed it into my screeching mouth.

He worked quickly after that, rolling me into the comforter and carrying me down the stairs, hoisted over his shoulder like a rolled-up carpet. The last time Charlie had carried me was when Sam brought me out of the woods. Even through the misery of that day, some part of me had registered Charlie's care and attention.

I wished I felt it now.

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_Our story continues tomorrow. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Just a reminder, this story was intended for Dark Fest and deals with mental illness and violence. _

_Kitchmill and StoryPainter are lovely people who are generous with their time and suggestions. I can't help tweaking, so all errors are my own. CindyWindy gives awesome advice._

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I bounced when he dumped me onto something with a firm cushion. A car door slammed near my ear, and I realized Alice was right; I was in the back of the cruiser. Thank God she'd told me to hide my phone. With the GPS, Edward should be able to track me, where ever I ended up.

After another slam, the car started moving. I did my best to lie still and think things through. As the adrenaline wore off, the logical part of my brain kicked in, and I could see two options: Edward would come for me, or I'd find a chance to run. Either way, I needed to stay calm and not waste precious energy. The problem was there wasn't much to do but think about how frightened I was—both for myself and for Charlie. How would we ever get past this? My mouth ached from being stretched by the sock and, logic be dammed, I couldn't hold back the tears.

A few seconds later, my nose was filling with snot, and I realized I wouldn't be able to breathe soon. I frantically tried to get myself under control. Oh, God. _I'm going to die in the back of the cruiser. _

My mind raced, flying from topic to topic. I searched for any happy memory that might stop the tears: Edward, Alice, Renee. Their faces all slipped through my head, but the image of Renee led me right back to Charlie, and I let out another silent sob. Memories wouldn't work. What about the future? I imagined myself back in the meadow with Edward. The sun shined on us, and I laughed while I covered my eyes, teasing him about needing sunglasses to see his chest.

My breathing slowed. A bit of the terror faded.

In the meadow, Edward fed me strawberries from his hand, and when I'd eaten my fill, I fell asleep in the sunny warmth ...

"Bella, I'm talking to you!" Charlie growled. I had no idea how long he'd been speaking, or how long I'd been in the back seat. The car had stopped, and he had the door open. His fingers dug in my mouth, pulling out the sock. It hurt to move my jaw, and I had trouble closing my mouth. He lifted a bottle of water to my lips, and I gasped and choked, coughing when I couldn't control the flow of the liquid.

"You probably don't understand all this yet, but I've got something to show you." With uncoordinated, jerky movements, he unwrapped the comforter. The rush of air was cold, but I didn't make a sound. I thought I had understood before, but the reality was sinking in—Charlie was lost. The man in front of me was no longer my father, and I needed to make sure I didn't antagonize him.

It was ironic. Along with the gun-safety lectures and the self-defense demonstrations, he'd lectured me about what to do in a kidnapping situation. As my teacher, he knew everything I'd been taught about how to behave. He'd be expecting anything I did. I was already too late for rule one; he'd removed me from my home. Now, it was time to concentrate on reducing injury and gaining as much information as possible.

Remembering Alice's advice to keep him calm, I knew she was right. If I acted as though I understood his reasons, he might let his guard down. I needed to keep my wits about me while looking compliant.

With a quick slice, he cut through the zip tie, and I could move my legs again. It took a bit of maneuvering before I was sitting up with my cuffed hands in my lap.

Charlie closed the door, leaving me alone in the back, and he sat down in the driver's seat. I couldn't see anything outside the car, and I had to assume we were parked along the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. God, I hoped that GPS in my phone was working.

"Now that I have your attention, Isabella, I'd like to show you something." His voice was deadly calm, and I plastered an interested expression on my face.

He adjusted the monitor mounted to the dashboard of the cruiser. It only took a few seconds before I was looking at an image of some bushes at the side of the road. We sat in silence, and I wondered what we were waiting for. Just as I opened my mouth to ask, there was the tiniest blip on the screen.

"There! Did you see it?"

"See what? Maybe you can describe it to me."

He continued speaking as though I hadn't said anything. His voice had a detached quality, like he was reading an old case report.

"I was sitting in a new hiding spot, ready to pick off speeders, when it happened. At first, I thought it was just a camera glitch, but I took another look." He adjusted the recorder, playing the blip back and forth. "Right there!" He'd managed to get the display moving frame by frame. His finger poised over the pause button, and when a grainy Rosalie popped up on the screen, I couldn't help but gasp. Right behind her was Emmett in a leaping motion that more resembled a cat than a human. They appeared to be running at great speed.

"The radar almost didn't register them. If they hadn't shown up on camera, I would never have known it happened."

I didn't move. I didn't speak. After all this time, Charlie was getting close to the truth, and he couldn't deal with something so fantastic and beyond his understanding.

He faced forward, talking to the windshield. "What is that? What can run that fast and leap without falling? It's not normal. It's not ... human." He waited, and I knew he was asking for some sort of explanation. "That paint chip, it came from your window sill. The only way it got into your room was if someone tracked it inside. There are no ladder marks in the grass. Edward's climbing in your window, but I don't know how."

Charlie rubbed his face with his hands before turning in his seat to look at me. "Is he brainwashing you? Seducing you? Is that why you keep taking him back? Does he have some sort of unnatural hold over you?"

"Dad, I don't know what you're talking about. Edward's not allowed in my room—" I responded quickly, and as the words left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong approach.

"Don't lie to me, Isabella! I'm your father, and I've given in on a lot of things, but I'm not stupid. I know teenage boys climb in girls' windows. What I don't know is what kind of creature that _boy_ is and how he got up there." His eyes were too wide, and he was speaking too quickly.

"He almost got you killed last year. You ran away last month. I'm sorry. You can't go back. It's too dangerous."

For a second, I could see the old Charlie. He was still in there. I needed to reason with him. There was still hope.

I took a deep, quivering breath. "It's okay, Dad. You wanted me to go Renee's. I think that's a good idea. Why don't you take me there?"

He shook his head, and it scared me to see that his hands were shaking.

"It's too late for that. They've brainwashed you somehow. I can't take you back there. You're my baby girl, and it's up to me to protect you—even from yourself."

The nausea-inducing fear was back. Should I protest and upset him? Should I agree and get further and further away from home? As I struggled with what to say next, Charlie turned the lights back on and cranked the engine over.

"Where are we going?" It was Saturday night. Who knew how far he could take me before someone noticed I was gone? Edward wouldn't call the authorities. I had to pray they would reach me before Charlie got to his destination.

"Somewhere safe." He was silent for a long time, and I didn't expect him to speak again. When he did, he was back to that flat, emotionless tone. "Billy has friends on a reservation in Wisconsin. They know a doctor who deprograms kids. They sent one of the Quileute boys there a few years back after they rescued him from a cult. Maybe they can take you on—help you understand why you don't see the Cullens for what they are."

I was still reeling from this information when my phone vibrated. I gasped at the sensation. In another situation, this would be funny. I needed to get Charlie to take me to a bathroom so I could look at the text.

"Dad, I'm going to need to pee soon. Can we stop at the next restroom?" We were in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't want to end up rummaging in the dark, looking for a bush to hide behind; the light from the phone would be too easy to spot.

"Later. First we need to make some time."

It was the last thing he said to me for a while, but I could hear him muttering. "All looking so young and never changing. Why doesn't that boy ever eat? Teenage boys are supposed to eat! Always going out of town together. Never fighting. It's not normal. It's not natural."

He was desperately trying to work things out, and he was too close. There were a few key pieces of information missing, and without those, the secret remained just out of his grasp. The combination of mystery and perceived danger had ruined his ability to reason.

Ignoring his monologue, I sat back and tried to cover myself with the quilt. I wasn't going to convince Charlie to stop, and I needed to conserve my strength. I wasn't sure whether or not I had drifted off when the car stopped.

Charlie had parked the cruiser in a nearly empty Wal-Mart parking lot. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't talk to anyone. I mean it, Isabella." Without another word, he locked the door and walked into the store, not looking back.

The movements were tricky, but I managed to get my phone out of my pants. There was one missed text from Edward.

**_Still working on the GPS in your phone. Trying to find you from what Alice is seeing. Stay safe. Charlie's almost figured it out, and he's on the edge. Don't push him! I love you._**

Thank God! Edward knew what had happened, and he was working to find us. Unfortunately, Charlie may have had a destination in mind, but he wasn't looking at maps and seemed to be making random turns. It felt like he was too scattered to pick a route. I needed to slow us down long enough for Alice to find us.

I'd just managed to put the phone away when Charlie unlocked the driver's door, tossed two large bags on the seat next to him and pulled out of the lot. If he even realized that he'd left me handcuffed, alone and vulnerable, he didn't mention it.

There was an all-night fast food place nearby, their bright yellow sign a beacon in the dark. There was no one in the lot, and Charlie verified that we could use the side door without being seen from the counter. Locking the car, he carried the bags with one hand and dragged me inside with the other. He knocked to verify the men's room was empty before opening the door. It was the kind where there weren't stalls, just one room with a urinal, a toilet, and a sink. He followed me inside, and I felt my heart start racing.

"Dad, you can't stand here while I pee. You can wait outside. I'm not going anywhere." I prayed he'd be reasonable, but with his new paranoia, there was no such luck.

"Go, or don't go. I don't care. Either way, I'm not stopping again anytime soon."

Even though I wanted to call Edward, I really did need to pee, and I felt tears begin to roll down my face. This couldn't be happening.

"Please, Dad," I heard myself whimper, but he wasn't affected.

He turned around, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

The cuffs chafed when I moved, and it felt like hours getting my pants unsnapped, unzipped and pulled down. I almost dropped my phone before frantically stuffing it into a pocket. I squatted, and when the pee hit the bowl, relief washed over me, followed by a fresh round of humiliation. Because of the cuffs, I had to wedge both hands between my legs to wipe, and I felt anger start to overtake my embarrassment. Once I had my pants pulled up, I moved the phone back into my underwear.

"I'm done," I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"I got you some clothes." He didn't look at me as he passed over one of the big bags.

"What?" For a second, I thought he bought me clothes for the trip. My phone vibrated, making me jump, and I started crumbling the plastic bag—anything to cover the sound. If Alice was trying to reach me while Charlie was so close, whatever was about to happen must be awful. My heart sank. How far would he go in his quest to protect me?

"We have three quarters of the country to cross, and you need to be able to follow me into the john so I can keep an eye on you."

"What?" I repeated. He wasn't making any sense. When he didn't answer, I started digging through the bags, pulling out items that made me want to scream: men's jeans in a size I knew were way too big, plain black men's T-shirts, and a lined, button-up flannel shirt. A baseball cap and a wide ace bandage were at the bottom of the bag.

"You're going to dress me up as a guy?" He'd truly had lost his mind.

"Don't worry. If you look the part, no one will question it. People see what they want to see."

I couldn't believe the irony. Charlie had been seeing what he wanted to see for the better part of a year! A tiny voice in the back of my head told me to stay calm. My phone vibrated again, and I was almost too angry to worry about him hearing it. I desperately wanted to see the message, but knew I couldn't.

"I won't do it," I said, crumpling the bag shut and trying to keep my tone even. "You can take me cross-country to protect me, and I promise not to run away, but I won't dress like a guy and let you drag me into any more men's rooms. It's just wrong. I think we need to call Mom."

The eyes that looked back at me were practically dead. He spoke quietly, and I had to strain to hear.

"I loved your mother with everything I had, and the day you were born was the happiest day of my life. The day she took you away almost killed me." His eyes narrowed, and he raised his voice. "I won't allow whatever _he_ is to take you away again. I will do my job as your father. I will protect you! And that means you will listen to me!" Like a storm rolling in off the ocean, his face darkened, and his eyes flashed. "You will do as you're told! Strip and change. Use the bandage on your ..." He motioned at my chest.

If it weren't so absurd, I'd have been laughing. "No. I won't." I knew I shouldn't antagonize him, but I couldn't stop. I'd been pulled from my home, treated like a criminal, and dragged to God knows where. I was ready to end to this. It didn't matter what he did. Bracing my feet, I glared up at this man who had helped raise me and had loved me for eighteen years.

I had an odd sense of déjà vu as his body twisted. In the same way my brain had seemed to speed up when the van careened at me junior year, I saw Charlie's hand come at me in slow motion, but I still couldn't move fast enough to get out of the way. A tremendous crack sounded through the tiny room as his fist connected with my cheek. I toppled to the side. My jaw hit the side of the urinal just before my temple slammed into the dirty tile floor. Sparks shot across my vision, my stomach lurched, and I struggled to stay conscious, taking deep, gulping breaths of urine-scented air. I instinctively tried to get away, my feet scrabbling, pushing me across the floor.

I wedged myself between the toilet and the wall, whimpering when Charlie reached down and wrapped my hair around his fist. He hauled me up, and I groaned at the searing pain shooting through my head.

"Look at yourself! Look at what you made me do!" He shook me like a rag doll before unclenching his fist. I folded in on myself, crumpling to the floor.

I curled into a ball, covering my head with my arms. Blood filled my mouth, and I realized that I had broken a tooth in the fall. My tongue was cut, and a huge piece of the canine was rolling around in my mouth. I spat it into my hand before letting it drop to the floor. My stomach rolled, and I pulled myself up to my knees, balancing on my cuffed hands while I struggled to the toilet. Blood-tinted bile was all I could bring up, but my stomach continued to heave, and each spasm wracked my body and sent fresh stabs of pain through my temple. I wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. Could I go to sleep? What if I didn't wake up?

When the heaving stopped, I closed my eyes and sat back against the wall. Wiping my mouth carefully with the back of my hand, it occurred to me that I'd stopped keeping track of Charlie. Shit! Where was he?

A fresh wave of adrenaline had my heart pounding. He seemed capable of anything now. I couldn't ever lose track of him again. A plastic bag rustled, and I knew he was getting out those clothes. Damn it! Why did I antagonize him? He wasn't stable. I knew better.

"Get up, Isabella. On your knees. Come here." I couldn't figure out what was in his hand, and that scared me. It was small and black, about the size of our cordless phone.

"Dad, please," I tried to say, but the words were garbled. My tongue was swelling. I didn't know what I was asking for, but I'd try anything. I tried speaking more slowly. "Please, let's go home. Or we could go to Mom's. She'll help us. Please."

"We're past that. Get over here, Isabella."

Whatever was in his hand, he'd managed to plug into the only socket in the bathroom. I opened my eyes against the now-bright light and felt fresh tears fall. It was an electric trimmer, the kind I used on his hair at home. Sweet Jesus. Please let this be some sort of horrible nightmare. Please don't let this be happening.

"Daddy, please."

"This is for the best. If we can make him not want you, and we can get far enough away, you'll be safe. I didn't enjoy hitting you. Don't make me do that again." He was back to the emotionless, detached state.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't go willingly. A small sliver of rational thought told me not to antagonize him, but I couldn't make myself get closer to him.

He sighed deeply, as though I was a naughty five-year-old.

It took exactly two steps for him to reach me. The cord stretched just far enough. I batted at him with all the strength I had left. With a loud curse, he tossed the clippers aside and they clattered to the floor. Charlie pulled his keys from his pocket and reached for me again. When he was done, I was on my stomach, but now, the cuffs were behind my back.

He pressed on my shoulder with bruising force while the clippers got closer and closer. A tile square dug into my cheek, and the vibration from the clippers echoed through my temple. Just as the tone of the buzzing changed, I felt the rush of cold air. Tears fell as my hair dropped onto the grimy tile. It was so cold.

Oh, God. Edward loved my hair. Was Charlie right? Would he not want me if it was gone? Did Alice see this? Is that why Edward tried to call?

"Get up and get changed."

Charlie hauled me up. He unlocked the cuffs before brushing me off roughly as though I were covered with potato chip crumbs instead of the remnants of my crowning glory.

I swayed as I saw the hair at my feet. Reaching down, I picked up a long strand, rubbing it between my fingers. Memories of Edward pushing it aside and kissing my neck brought up a sob. I would miss that so much.

Charlie shoved the first bag at me again. This time he turned his back so I could change; he must have been sure I wouldn't protest again.

Trying to keep my thoughts blank, I put the clothes on. The only things that would stay were my panties and the Chucks. As expected, the jeans were much too big, and I kept the phone tucked in my undies. The Ace bandage didn't do much to cover my breasts, but with the loose T-shirt and flannel, it would be hard to tell I was female. Tears started again as I pulled the ball cap on.

I couldn't help but glance in the mirror. I could have been a public service poster: "Violence Hurts Everyone." A huge bruise blossomed across my cheek, and I had the beginnings of a black eye. My mouth was swollen where the tooth was broken. A sob broke though as I rubbed one hand gently across the buzz cut covering my scalp. Two long strands remained near my temple, missed by the clipper and seeming to taunt me with what I'd lost. The most frightening thing was the vacant look in my eyes. Eventually, I'd look like Charlie.

Out of habit, I reached up to sweep a lock of hair behind my ear. I could almost feel it.

"It'll grow back."

That was as close to an apology as I was going to get. Charlie grabbed my arm, dragged me out of the bathroom and tossed me into the backseat. I curled in on myself, still trying not to think. The pain in my head was fading, but the ache in my jaw was getting worse.

I took deep, calming breaths, but air passing across the broken tooth sent fresh waves of agony though my head. My stomach was pitching again, and I started to shiver. Logic asserted itself, telling me there was a good chance I was going into shock. What was I supposed to do for that? Junior high first aid was so long ago. _God, Bella,_ _think! _Elevate the injured area and stay warm.

I pulled the comforter from the floor of cruiser, inhaling deeply, taking in Edward's scent before curling in on myself. Shifting in the cramped space, I finally rested my head on a bent elbow and tucked the comforter close. It took minutes for the shivering to slow then stop. As the time passed, I pretended I was still at home. My bed was warm while I waited for Edward to crawl in the window. Charlie was dreaming the sleep of the ignorant, and soon my lover would come to me. In my fantasy, Edward crawled in my window, wrapping his arms around me, nuzzling into my hair, inhaling deeply. In my mind, I was warm, and I was safe; I was still whole.

I had no idea how much time passed as I daydreamed, concentrating on deep-breathing through my nose and staying out of Charlie's line of sight. I worried when the car stopped suddenly.

"We need to ditch the cruiser." He'd pulled into the lot of a commercial warehouse. Judging by the parked cars, there was a shift working inside, but no one outside. It took Charlie less than a minute to open the door of an older, black SUV and hotwire it. While he transferred guns and other equipment from the cruiser to the SUV, I considered trying to make a run for it. Even if I could get him to open the door, there was no way I'd make it more than ten feet. I was smart enough to bide my time.

He opened the door, yanking me to my feet and tossing me in the back of the SUV. The jarring motion sent a fresh wave of agony through my head, and I cried out. I cradled my face in my hands and tried to hold still.

"Hurt bad?" Charlie asked. He didn't wait for an answer before his eyes scanned the parking lot. About three cars away was an older sedan. It was two-tone, dented all to hell, and plastered with pro-pot, drug, and rock band stickers. Charlie grabbed a rock and smashed in the driver's side window, turning the tempered glass to glittery rubble. I watched, horrified, as he opened the door and started searching. He returned, holding up a small wad of cash, a prescription bottle, and a baggie of joints.

He tucked the joints into his pocket—God only knew what he planned to do with those. After skimming the bottle label, he opened it and tilted a round, red tablet into his hand. He held it out to me.

Shaking my head, I tried to let him know without speaking that I wasn't going to take it. I'm no goody two-shoes, but I didn't want to end up taking someone's hormone replacement or blood-sugar medication.

"Take it, Bella. It's for pain." He might as well have been telling a stranger it was going to rain tomorrow. There was no care in his tone. "Do as you're told."

I shook my head slowly, watching those empty eyes.

He sprang forward. One hand held my throat while the other thrust the tablet between my teeth. I grabbed his wrist, trying to push his hand back so I could breathe. He covered my mouth, leaning in until his eyes were level with mine.

"Swallow. Now." His breath was sour, and my eyes watered. The look in his eyes terrified me, so I stared at the tiny mole above his eyebrow. Finding the tablet with my tongue, I moved to the proper place for swallowing. Once my throat muscles moved, he gripped my chin and forced a foul-tasting finger into my mouth, sweeping back and forth. I screeched when he hit the broken tooth.

The sound of my pain seemed to satisfy him. With a nod, he stepped back and started to close the door on me.

The fight and fresh pain brought back the nausea and chills. "Dad, please. The blanket," I gritted out, trying to keep my jaw still. Under the harsh lot light, I watched my father go back to the cruiser and grab the last thing I had from home. Once he'd tossed it in, I made a nest for myself. I felt slightly safer when I was out of sight, the covers pulled over my head, hiding from the boogeyman.

My phone vibrated again, and I realized that I had no idea how many times it had gone off since Charlie pulled me from the house. It only took a few seconds to decide that the risk was worth it. I checked the blanket edges to make sure no light was visible and slowly pulled the phone from my pants. My hands trembled while I turned the brightness all the way down.

There were three messages. The first two were heartfelt pleas for me to stay calm and not upset Charlie. The third filled me with hope.

**_We're getting close. Hang on._**

I thought about trying to answer, but my eyes were full of tears, and the letters on the display wouldn't focus. No matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn't think of how to reply. Was that the pain pill taking effect? How foggy would I get? If it got any worse, there was no way I'd be able to type on that tiny keyboard. It seemed best to wait. At least I knew they would reach me soon. It took three tries to get the phone closed and back into my pants. I curled into a tight ball and tried to come up with escape plans, but it got harder and harder to think. "Hang on. Hang on." Through the haze, I kept whispering it. "Hang on."

* * *

Our little Halloween tale concludes tomorrow! Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

_I've been remiss in not adding a disclaimer. None of this is mine other than the overactive imagination. _

_This story deals with mental illness and violence. Please pass if that doesn't work for you._

Kitchmill and StoryPainter_ from PTB are great! I never leave well-enough alone, so all errors are my own. Thank you CindyWindy for all the help!_

_Here we go!_

* * *

"Bella, get up!"

Charlie was yelling at me. Had I fallen asleep?

Sitting up, the comforter fell back, and I shivered. There was still pain in my jaw, but it was dull compared to the night before. When I looked around, I saw that the sun was rising.

"Put your hat on. We're going to the john."

The damned hat was missing, and it took me precious minutes to find it. Charlie quickly lost patience. When he grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the backseat, I stumbled, and without his tight grip, I would have fallen. Even without seeing the red marks, I knew I'd have a tremendous bruise tomorrow.

My feet didn't seem to be working properly. Charlie walked quickly, and it took all my concentration to move forward. We got to the men's room door, and I started to panic when I heard someone coughing inside. I stopped at the threshold; the separation of restrooms so ingrained in me that I couldn't seem to move. It reminded me of the neighbor's dog—the one that wouldn't leave the yard because of that shock-collar. I guessed that entering an occupied men's room was the teenage girl's equivalent to an invisible fence.

At that thought, I began to giggle, and when it started, I couldn't seem to turn it off. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Charlie just dragged me inside and shoved me in a stall. Under the door, I could see his feet. He was standing guard until I finished. I heard the other man finish peeing and zip up, leaving the bathroom without washing his hands. Another chance to ask for help was gone.

I had to fight the groggy feeling while coordinating loose clothing and keeping my phone from falling. My heart sank when I saw there were no new messages from Edward. I managed to do my business and get myself pulled back together.

When we were done, Charlie went to the attached cafe and picked up subs and water bottles, peeling bills off a big roll of cash. We never had that kind of money, and I wondered where it came from. Did he break into something else while I was sleeping or sell the joints? Maybe I didn't want to know. The walk back to the car went faster and felt more real somehow. My eyes scanned the lot, and I couldn't help but look for ways to signal for help.

"Stop gawking and follow me," Charlie barked in a way that let me know he was watching.

As we reached the SUV, he had me crawl in the back, and he handed over one of the subs. Before I could protest, he held out another pain pill. I didn't want to take it, but the memory of last time was still fresh in my mind. Deciding I couldn't fight him again, I took it from his hand and downed it with some water.

The sub was wilted and gray. I wasn't hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. Pulling it into tiny bites I didn't have to chew, I managed about a quarter of it before I set it on the floor and rolled over.

Later, there was rustling, and heavy hands pushed something small between my lips. _Why wouldn't he leave me alone? _I choked and gasped on the water before closing my eyes, sinking back into the groggy emptiness.

In my dream, Charlie was asleep at the wheel. A horn startled him awake. He cursed at the car in his lane then veered hard to the right. I heard him muttering about dangerous drivers and staying off the road when there were so many crazies out.

Then it was daylight again. Charlie held my right arm as I stumbled into another men's room. It was a truck stop, but this one was much busier than the others. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus. When we were out of the bathroom, he warned me not to talk to anyone before dropping me in a chair and walking away. It was too loud and too bright. I put my head down and closed my eyes.

"You okay, son?" a man with a gray ponytail and too-white teeth asked me from the next table over. As I lifted my head, my cheek stuck to the grungy tabletop, peeling away like cellophane off a cheap slice of cheese.

"Huh?" was all I could answer. _I just want to sleep. _

"I asked if you were okay."

Was I? Wait! I was supposed to be looking for something! No. I was supposed to do something. I had just opened my mouth when I heard Charlie.

"What do you want?" he asked the man. There was a greasy smell coming from the bag he held, and my stomach turned. I put my head back down.

"Your boy there don't look right. He needs a doctor. Look at that bruise on his face."

"He likes to fight and tied one on last night. You know how boys are." Charlie's gentle, reproachful tone made him sound like father of the year. "Get up, _son_. It's time to go." He lifted me by my arm, only this time it took longer to get my feet working, and the floor seemed to pitch and roll.

When we got back to the car, Charlie fed me bits of something tasteless before shoving two red pills in my mouth. This time, I didn't even consider fighting him. Until Edward could get to me, sleep was all I wanted.

The new dreams seemed more vivid: peeing in the bushes with my father holding me up by my arms, Charlie finding my phone and setting it under the car tire before driving away, curses and mutterings about saving me from the demon who was trying to steal my soul.

I'd met demons. They're frightening creatures with red eyes. _He_ protected me from the demons. Even though my brain wasn't working well enough to come up with a name, I could picture him in my mind. He was coming to rescue me.

Charlie slammed on the brakes, and the car careened to the side, throwing me against the front seat. Fresh waves of pain and fear shot through me, clearing some of the drug haze.

Edward was standing in the middle of the road. His clothes were practically shredded, and I knew he must have run the entire way from Alaska. The sun was on the horizon, just breaking over the tops of the cornfield. In the half light, Edward looked like the demon Charlie feared. Then he was gone.

For a split-second, Edward's face appeared in the passenger side window, gazing at me. His expression shifted from relief, to horror, to fury before he was gone again.

Charlie's door groaned as it was ripped from the hinges. From his seat, he arced through the air, landing in the ditch next to the road. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but Edward suddenly appeared in his path. I was torn between two thoughts: _Thank God it's over, _and _Charlie needs help._

With barely contained fury, Edward moved toward Charlie. He'd never let me watch him hunt, but I was sure that was how he looked when he stalked his prey.

"Are you going to shoot me, Charlie?" Edward taunted. "Go ahead if it makes you feel better! It won't slow me down. I'll just keep coming." He looked Charlie up and down as though he were spoiled meat. "You have no idea how much I want to kill you, but that would hurt Bella."

Charlie's eyes were wild, flicking from Edward to me. "What are you? Why won't you leave her alone?" He was trembling and had to hold the gun with both hands.

"It doesn't matter what I am. I love her, and I would never hurt her. Especially not the way you have!"

"I was protecting her! And I will keep protecting her." Charlie twisted, turning the gun from Edward to me. His expressionless eyes narrowed as he started firing.

Once again, time seemed to slow down.

Edward reached me just as pain exploded in my neck. I heard three small pings and knew Edward had managed to shield me from the rest of the bullets.

Corn stalks rustled in the distance just before I heard Emmett's voice. "Hold still, Charlie. I don't want to hurt you."

"Bella! Don't let him near you!" Charlie's voice called. "Answer me! Do as you're told!"

I couldn't breathe. Oh, God. This was how it was ending. Frantically, I grasped at Edward, using his tattered shirt to pull him closer.

He bent low, bringing his mouth to my neck as though he could read my mind.

* * *

"Hey, Esme." I could have asked how Charlie was, but I didn't need to bother. He was always the same. I dutifully emptied my pockets into the visitor's basket. Charlie was a risk to himself, so no one was allowed to bring anything in without Carlisle's permission.

She escorted me into the room, and I sat near the door waiting patiently for her to leave. Charlie was usually in this room in the afternoons. If it wasn't baseball season, they would replay recorded games for him.

As soon as the door closed, He looked up at me and sneered. "Why do you keep coming back? Stay away from me. Do you hear? You might look like her, but my Bella is gone. Now, you're just like the rest of them. I won't let you take my soul."

I didn't say anything. He would only get more agitated, and Esme would send me away before my time was up.

I spent my visiting hour watching Charlie pace, pondering the events that had brought us here. My father spent the hour calling me names and berating my new family. He started swearing when Esme buzzed Carlisle into the room and handed him a clipboard.

"How's our patient today?" he asked, looking from Charlie to me before flipping through the chart.

"Always the same," I said.

"Come to gloat that you still have me locked up?"

I'm still not sure what happened during my change. Someone—I've never really cared enough to find out who—convinced Edward that he couldn't kill Charlie. They thought it would be too hard on me. For the better part of a year, he's been in this little cottage as our lone patient. Well, I guess he's a prisoner if you want to look at it that way.

Carlisle sighed. "Charlie, we've talked about this at length. We can't let you go until you accept what we are. If we can't trust you with our secrets, we'll have to keep you here. There really aren't many choices left to us when someone knows as much as you do." He made notes on the chart as he spoke.

They'd waited until I was past the worst of my newborn craze to tell him the truth about vampires. Carlisle had hoped that Charlie was redeemable, and that once he had the missing puzzle piece, my father's reality would be restored. Alice had been no help in determining what was going to happen; Charlie was too unstable.

I'd sat in this very chair when they told him the truth, holding my breath while the burning tore at my throat. It took everything I had not to rip into Charlie's neck when he'd launched himself at me, screaming about killing monsters.

I hadn't been surprised by his reaction. I'd never really held out any hope. There was nothing left of Charlie inside that body. The father who had loved me could never have done those things to me. I'd enjoyed being right about that one.

Charlie looked at me and made a scoffing sound. "You know, Carlisle, every time you say that, it sounds a little more like a threat. Well, maybe your 'options' don't sound so bad. I'd rather be dead than a prisoner for the rest of my life just because that demon wants to torture me!" he shouted, pointing in my direction.

That was when Esme came to get me. Once Charlie raised his voice, my time was up. I gathered my belongings and left.

An early winter storm was rolling in, tossing leaves around the yard. I began the short walk between our one patient private clinic and the main house. Edward was looking out our bedroom window, watching my approach. Before, Charlie had watched my every move. Now, Edward did.

I knew the family was worried about me. Evidently, I wasn't transitioning to my new life very well. Sometimes, I heard them talking about it. About me.

A strong gust cut through the trees, pushing my collar up and sending my wig askew. Cursing long and low, I pulled it straight. It wouldn't matter how long I lived, I'd never get used to it. Another sin to lay at my father's feet.

The light spilling from our bedroom window framed Edward perfectly, like a beacon in the night. He was waiting for me to come to him. Well, he'd have to keep waiting.

I turned and headed into the forest, tossing the wig as I started to run. If I went back, they'd coop me up in the house, and I was angry and eager to move. Each visit to Charlie brought those days back, reopening wounds I refused to let heal. I'd only end up pacing with them whispering behind my back. It made me crazy when they whispered about me.

Charlie was right. I did want to keep him here. I wasn't going to let him get away with what he did to me. As far as I was concerned, his time in our makeshift mental health facility was pure justice. He could spend the rest of his natural life locked up, and I'd grit my teeth, torturing him with my presence every day until he breathed his last.

After all, what were the options? Even if he were sane, Charlie knew too much to let go, and it was clear that he couldn't keep his mouth shut. I refused to kill him myself, and I wouldn't let the family do it; death would be too easy.

Last year, Charlie had decided to save me from things he didn't understand. Now, it was my chance to return the favor. I could make sure he was protected and lived a nice long life. After all, it was for his own good.

* * *

Happy Halloween!


End file.
